I can feel bumps rising on my skin and stiffness settling in. I shiver, wishing the fire was just a little warmer.

A rush of heat startles me. Bright yellow flames sear into the night, flaring up so high in response to my accidental call for warmth that, for a moment, it looks like Raze’s whole face is encased in flame.

He shouts in alarm and throws himself back, landing hard on the ground with his arms and legs in the air like an overturned beetle.

“I’m so sorry!” Horror and surprise flood me, making my hands shake. I focus, and the fire goes back to tamely licking at the cool air. I swoop over him, heart in my throat, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to. I can’t—” I stop. I’m not about to explain my problems with magic to an enchanter from one of the most famous magical families in the world. My heart pounds, waiting for him to move. I don’t like Raze, but I’m not trying to burn him alive.

Thankfully, he’s fine. His messy red hair flops over his face as he pushes himself back up, trying to look collected and dignified. Except—

Oh, Fate.

Oh, no.

The flames didn’t burn his skin or hair, but they singed his eyebrows badly enough for it to be noticeable. They aren’t...completely burned off, but the auburn hairs are definitely more sparse and missing in patches. It makes him look even more surprised.

I can’t help it. I start to laugh.

Raze looks offended, and I can easily picture him as a hawk with his feathers ruffled around round eyes. I laugh harder.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat through giggles. “Your...your eyebrows, Raze.”

His hand flies to his face, fear widening his eyes. “My eyebrows?”

I can’t help it. I howl with laughter, shaking so hard I almost fall over. “That’s the best thing that’s happened to me all week.” A cough rattles my chest as I try to control myself. “It’s—” I crack a smile, snorting. When I try to speak again, my voice pitches up higher with every word as I try not to laugh. “It’s not that bad.”

“Iselia, you better be joking.”

“It was an accident!” I cry.

He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously, but a flickering smile plays across his face. “Sure,” he says, drawing the word out for a comically long time.

Another round of cackles shakes my chest. “I swear!”

A smile cracks his annoyed facade, and then he’s laughing with me. “Just tell me my dashing good looks aren’t ruined. It’s all I have left.”

A snort breaks through the laughter, and I roll my eyes. “Trust me,” I say, “you’re exactly as attractive as you’ve ever been.”

He pulls an exaggerated offended face, clutching at his chest. “Maybe give me a little warning before the next time you try to kill me. It would be appreciated.” But then he’s laughing, too, blushing as his hands run over the place where his eyebrows used to be.